Hermione looked back to Umbridge the second the door clicked shut. She saw the toady woman fuming, her face turning a deep, volatile purple as she drew in a breath to screech a furious order to the remaining students. But before she could utter a single syllable—
'Crack!'
A sharp, resonant fracturing sound echoed cleanly from the stone ceiling. The very next microsecond, a heavy, solid stone brick detached from the ancient masonry and fell directly onto Umbridge's head with a sickening 'thud.' Before the malicious, triumphant smile could even fade from her face, Senior Undersecretary toppled over backward, hitting the floorboards completely stiff.
"....."
The sudden, brutal incident left the entire classroom dead silent for several agonizing seconds.
Umbridge lay peacefully on the stone floor beneath the blackboard, a faint, plastic smile still fixed on her lips. She was entirely motionless, her chest rising and falling with barely detectable breathing. Everyone stared blankly at the podium, privately marveling at how physically robust this new professor was... falling into such a sound, instantaneous sleep right in the middle of a lecture. Many young people struggling with O.W.L. anxiety couldn't even achieve such deep, uninterrupted rest.
"Absolutely risk-free, wasn't it?"
Someone in the back row muttered the line under their breath, mimicking her sing-song voice, and the classroom instantly erupted into a wild sea of roaring laughter. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs clutched their stomachs; they had never encountered such a comically unlucky 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' professor before. Even Gilderoy Lockhart back then had at least been knocked out by actual magical creatures and had held his ground for quite a while before collapsing.
A curious Hufflepuff student cautiously approached the platform and looked up at the high ceiling, pointing toward a fresh, jagged hole that had appeared in the mortar. "It was probably just due to building's extreme age," he reasoned to the room, "Loosened bricks naturally fall away from deteriorating walls. It's a structural neglect...."
But honestly, who could possibly blame Umbridge for standing directly beneath that one specific, falling brick? Certainly not Lucifer, right? The boy had already cleanly left the classroom minutes before the incident occurred! Once the initial wave of hysterical laughter finally subsided, a few trembling students hoisted her up and quickly carted her straight to the hospital wing.
As for the rest of the Defense classroom, no one dared stay behind; who knew if more stray bricks might naturally decide to fall?
Down in the medical ward, Madam Pomfrey gave the unconscious bureaucrat a brief, highly dismissive glance. She couldn't even be bothered to waste precious medication or restorative draughts on her. She simply instructed the students to dump Umbridge unceremoniously onto a corner bed. "Just a mild concussion. Knocked clean out. More sleep will fix it," she grumbled, turning back to her cabinets.
This year's Hogwarts hospital wing budget had been severely cut again by Ministry audits. How could they justify wasting rare, expensive potions on the very woman responsible for the paperwork?
Seeing Madam Pomfrey's thoroughly uncaring attitude, the students happily went about their business, abandoning the ward within minutes.
The only exception was Hermione, who walked back toward the Gryffindor Tower looking deeply thoughtful. She felt a lingering, persistent suspicion... this entire accident had something to do with her boyfriend.
The moment she slipped into their private, warded quarters, she was instantly enveloped in a pair of strong arms. Lucifer pulled her close, his head burying into the crook of her shoulder as he playfully sniffed her neck, tracking the faint, clean scent of her skin for any traces of 'Polyjuice Potion' or external magic.
"I am truly, completely innocent this time, pet."
Holding Miss Know-it-all tightly in his arms, Lucifer looked down and gave her a wide, doe-eyed face, an expression he genuinely thought would work to disarm his highly suspicious girlfriend. When her glare merely narrowed into dangerous, unblinking, he let out a low click of his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine... it might possess a tiny, microscopic bit to do with me," he chose to amend smoothly.
Hermione snorted softly, a faint smile breaking through her stern expression as she withdrew her hand from the boy's waist, crossing her arms. "I knew it. The entire castle is heavily reinforced with ancient structural magic. How could a massive stone brick suddenly fall and strike Umbridge so precisely on the crown of her head without a single warning?" She had read 'Hogwarts: A History' a hundred times from cover to cover and knew every single defensive enchantment woven into the stone walls.
Lucifer reached out, pinching her nose in mock annoyance. "I only said it had a tiny, indirect connection to my person, Hermione. That absolutely does not mean I am admitting to physically pulling a stone out of the ceiling."
"Then what exactly did you do?" She asked curiously, leaning her back against the bedrest. She knew news had already spread like a wildfire through the Great Hall, Lucifer had walked clean out of Umbridge's first class, flipped the 'Senior Undersecretary' off, and slammed the heavy door behind him. The gossip traveled fast, unbelievably so, even by Hogwarts' high standards.
He had literally abandoned a Ministry official in the middle of a lecture without giving her an ounce of institutional respect, and a second later, she was crushed by a 'falling' piece of the castle. Were they completely losing their sanity? Anyone with a basic brain could easily connect those dots.
Lucifer made an intricate hand gesture through the air, a perverted movement that would have made even Gellert Grindelwald blush at its forbidden methodology. "I simply cast a minor curse over Umbridge's personal coordinates before I left. A localized jinx. For a brief period after activation, her surrounding reality would experience particularly horrific bad luck... Whatever could go wrong around her, naturally would."
Hermione's expression turned highly complex, a mix of fascination and moral bewilderment. "Where on earth did you learn such a mean, targeted spell?"
A sharp 'whooshing' sound cut her off. From the shelf of his adjacent private study, a heavy, leather-bound volume titled 'The Darkest Arts' flew through the air, its dark pages crackling before landing perfectly in Lucifer's waiting hands.
"From this exact text," he smirked, tapping the dark cover. "What I just executed counts among the mildest ten categories detailed inside these chapters. If you're genuinely interested, you can take it back to your desk and study the mechanics."
Hermione initially wanted to refuse the offer. She had absolutely zero interest in practicing Dark Magic. But then she remembered the old adage: knowing one's enemy and understanding their tools was absolutely crucial for securing a future victory. She reached out and accepted the heavy book, clutching it to her chest.
Even if she refused to ever cast the minor hexes herself, she needed to thoroughly understand the theoretical properties to avoid being caught completely off guard by "Dark entities" in the future.
By dinner, the spectacular news of Umbridge's structural injury had spread like wildfire through every single year group and house table.
This was the very first 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' lesson of the entire term, and before a single class period could even reach its official conclusion, the Ministry's hand-picked vanguard had been thoroughly hospitalized by a common brick.
Instantly, the student body's high expectations for this new professor with the countless grand titles came crashing down into total mockery. 'Senior Undersecretary and Head of the Department of Magical Education' seemed like absolutely nothing special after all, just another useless, fragile professor cursed by the position.
"Could she be a total academic fraud just like Gilderoy Lockhart was?" a younger Hufflepuff student questioned loudly over his plate of sausages.
"No way," A third-year Gryffindor girl immediately retorted, letting out a sharp scoff. "Even if Lockhart was an absolute fraud, you can't deny the man was incredibly handsome and possessed a great sense of fashion. Just look at her cardigan? Ew~" She didn't even bother finishing her sentence, instead making a thoroughly disgusted expression as she reached for her pumpkin juice.
Currently, the absolute hottest topic among the Hogwarts girls wasn't the Ministry's educational decrees or Harry's looming detention, it was a vicious, widespread criticism of Dolores Umbridge's horrifying fashion choices, branding her wardrobe a total eyesore to the castle.
xxxxxx
Flashback~
Lucifer stormed out of his Defense class, breathing angrily through his nose as he tried to calm himself down. He couldn't believe that horrid woman had gotten to him so easily, especially since he had been doing so well controlling his volatile temper lately. Stopping in an empty corridor, he closed his eyes for a long moment and took deep, measured, calming breaths.
He couldn't lose his cool again in front of Umbridge, not so soon into the term. He was a 'Prefect' now, and he had to start acting like one. Otherwise, he would really be no better than Ron, had the red-haired boy been chosen over him for the badge. That specific thought actually angered him, sending a sharp prickle of irritation through his veins, but he firmly pushed it aside to be dealt with in another way later.
He opened his eyes and decided to go outside. Since 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' was the final class on his schedule for the day, he didn't care at all where he went.
The pink, toad-like woman had been cursed anyway.
Upon stepping out into the crisp autumn air, he saw the 'Care of Magical Creatures' class being held off in the distance near the edge of the grounds. Professor Grubbly-Plank was currently showing what looked like a new group of third-years a stocky, horse-like Porlock up close, her pipe smoking gently in the afternoon breeze. Lucifer smiled slightly as he walked down the sloping lawn toward the Lake's edge.
His eyes were naturally drawn to the far end of the black water, the exact place where Sirius Black had almost been kissed by a Dementor in this timeline, and the spot where Lucifer had cast his own immense, corporeal Patronus.
Standing on the damp grass, his hand absent-mindedly reached into his robes for his wand. He drew the wood, aiming it smoothly above and in front of him into the overcast sky. "Expecto Patronum."

A blinding, silver light erupted from the tip of his wand, condensing instantly into the massive, scaly form of a magnificent Heavenly Dragon. The creature sprang forward, hovering effortlessly over the glass-like surface of the lake with a mighty, silent roar that rippled the water.
A deep, powerful presence within his own mind seemed to echo as the silver entity floated in the sky. "Lucifer Morningstar. You think you're dangerous? Even the God of the Bible revered our power, the power of dragons. Whether it's me, or the Hakuryuukou, or Fafnir, you can't underestimate our legacy. I could, if I wanted to, destroy the entire mortal world a few times over with just brute force.... But I haven't done so. Because compared to your endless cosmic burdens, my life is significantly more enjoyable like this."
The voice trailed off into a calm vibration. "Banish your anger, my friend."
Lucifer smiled as the silver dragon drifted lazily over the dark water, his own thoughts lifting his bad mood. "I will," he murmured aloud to the empty shore. "I definitely will."
He let his Patronus hover over the lake for the time being, casting a protective silver glow over the grass, and sat down on a dry stone. Pulling his parchment and ink out, he got an early start on some of the heavy homework already assigned to him on the very first day of term.
Before he knew it, the distant ringing of the castle bell echoed across the grounds, signaling the official end of classes for the day.
He let out a soft sigh, knowing Hermione was undoubtedly going to give him a piece of her mind later, if not the exact moment she caught sight of him. Figuring he should just get the lecture over with, he stood up, dispelling the silver dragon back into nothingness, and packed his textbooks into his enchanted pouch before making his way back up to the castle.
He couldn't wait to see how the student body was talking about what he had done in Defense. He figured the rumors would either focus on him getting angry and storming out, or Harry's violent shouting match with Umbridge. 'Or it could be a chaotic mix of both, but students around here tend to focus on one juicy piece of rumor at a time,' he thought to himself with a dry smirk.
Just as Lucifer reached the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors, a massive wave of students began pouring out for their free evening period. But the moment they caught sight of his tall frame, the crowd split down the middle.
They gave him a wide berth, scrambling along the very edges of the stone steps to get down past him. He sighed again and pushed straight through the gap, flood of teenagers stopping temporarily to let him cleanly back into the Entrance Hall.
He walked up the marble staircase with the full intention of heading back to Gryffindor Tower, but he ran straight into a frantic-looking Hermione along the corridor.
"Lucifer, there you are," She said quickly, her face a mask of serious, tightly controlled anxiety. "Could you follow me please?"
"Of course," he said, instantly matching her pace.
She turned on her heel and led him up several flights of stairs, utilizing a series of hidden paths and sliding tapestries that were entirely unknown to the younger-year students. Finally, they reached the fifth floor, stopping right in front of a heavily carved door displaying the golden seal of student leadership. It was the Prefect's Bathroom.
She turned her head to look at him, her bushy hair swaying over her shoulders. "We can talk completely privately in here," she whispered, twisting the brass handle and leading him straight inside.
He walked into the massive room and looked around, whistling softly. "Pretty spacious. And that main bath is honestly more like a luxury swimming pool," he pointed out, gesturing to the dozens of gold taps encrusting the sunken marble tub.
Hermione gave a distracted nod, leading him over to a row of elongated plush seats far off to the side, away from the steaming mirrors. "Could you sit, please?"
He nodded, lowering his tall frame onto the soft fabric. A second later, Hermione sat down right next to him, her knees pulling up slightly as she turned to face him. "Hermione..." he started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as he looked down at his boots, suddenly losing his words.
"Lucifer, you promised me on the stairs that you'd behave—"
"I know, I know... and I'm sorry," Lucifer cut her off softly, his jaw tightening. "I know saying the words probably doesn't mean much to you anymore after what happened today, but I truly am sorry, pet. The way Umbridge was talking... the absolute ignorance of her decrees... it shouldn't have gotten to me as badly as it did."
Hermione looked at his face carefully, her chocolate eyes softening as she took in the genuine remorse in his expression. "So why did it, Lucifer?"
"Because Voldemort's return to power is directly the fault of the Ministry's willful blindness," Lucifer said, his voice dropping into a frustrated manner, "I've known this to be true for the past several months. But when she stood up there and said those things... pretending there are no dangers waiting outside the gates... it just bothered me." His fists clenched tightly against his knees for a moment, the fabric of his trousers straining, before they slowly relaxed and he hunched forward.
Hermione let out a soft breath and reached over, placing her hand gently on his upper back, rubbing a soothing circle through his robes. "I understand completely why you got angry, Lucifer. Honestly, everyone in that classroom was furious with her."
"But no one else in that room can release force as dangerously as I can," Lucifer said, sitting back up to lock his dark eyes onto his girlfriend. "I will not get angry again this year, Hermione. I swear it to you. Unless something horribly outlandish or dangerous happens to you, I will not lose my temper again this year."
She stared into his eyes for a long, quiet moment. She knew him well enough to see that he wanted to do exactly as he said, and she had witnessed how hard he had tried to restrain himself in Umbridge's classroom before the desk splintered.
She simply couldn't hold a grudge against him. A warm smile broke across her face. Moving closer across the plush cushion, she shifted up onto her knees to bring herself perfectly level with his face, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.
She leaned in and kissed him, a soft, comforting press of her lips that lasted for a few beautiful seconds before they gently broke apart.
"I know you are the most powerful being to ever exist after God, Lucifer," she whispered softly, her fingers reaching up to tenderly caress his cheek. He leaned his face into her warm palm, closing his eyes. "With so much power trapped inside you, I could never hate you, or even stay upset with you for getting angry. I'll always love you, no matter what."
"I'll always care for you as well, Hermione," Lucifer smiled warmly, opening his eyes as he gently caught her wrist. "Come on, let's head down to the tower for now. While I was out by the lake, I actually managed to get most of the homework assigned to us earlier today completely done."
"Well, I would certainly hope you had done something highly productive with your time while skipping class," she smirked at him playfully, standing up and smoothing down her robes. Her mood didn't falter at his usual hesitation around the word 'love'; she knew the depth of his feelings. "At least you didn't get yourself into an absolute shouting match with her like Harry did. It's probably already spread across the entire castle they were practically screaming at one another."
As they stepped out of the bathroom and walked down quiet corridor toward the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione kept a sharp eye on his profile. Though she hadn't explicitly asked about the 'falling' brick incident just yet, she had a very strong suspicion about the sudden structural failure. She decided she would be entirely curt with him on the matter once they were safely inside their private quarters.
xxxxxxx
She was, in fact, entirely correct about her assumption. By Dinner time later that day, the entire school was thoroughly aware of the fact that Harry and Umbridge had got into it.
What also got around the school, though it wasn't as loudly talked about, was the barely contained rage Lucifer had displayed in class.
Naturally, the Slytherins capitalized on it immediately, using it as an excuse to brand him as the single most 'dangerous person' currently attending Hogwarts.
The Slytherins, of course, were the only ones bold enough to talk about it openly. When they saw that Lucifer was doing absolutely nothing about it, simply sitting at the table and cutting into his plate of roasted potatoes and lamb chops, they got progressively bolder throughout dinner.
The ones sitting near the edge of the Gryffindor table had no trouble loudly projecting their voices across the gap to talk vocally about Harry.
"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered..." Draco Malfoy sneered, leaning back on his bench as Pansy Parkinson snickered loudly beside.
"He reckons he actually dueled with You-Know-Who..." Marcus Flint added, loudly tossing a chicken bone onto his golden plate.
"Come off it..."
"Who does he think he's kidding?"
"Pur—lease..."
"What I don't get," Harry said in a shaky voice, setting his fork and knife down because his hands were trembling horribly with a mix of fury and humiliation, as he stared at his untouched food, "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them at the end-of-term feast..."
"That's the thing, Harry," Hermione said grimly, her fingers twisting her napkin beneath the table. "I don't think they ever truly did..."
"Blimey, they're just being utter gits," Ron muttered, aggressively stabbing a piece of steak kidney pie to hide his own discomfort. "If Malfoy says one more word. They all looked terrified back the-----"
"Looking terrified isn't the same as accepting the truth, Ron," Hermione explained patiently, her eyes tracking the suspicious glances from the Ravenclaw table.
"Come on," Lucifer said, slamming his heavy silver utensils down on the table with a sharp, resonant clatter that made the nearby first-years jump. "Let's get out of here."
They all stood up in unison. Ron looked incredibly sadly at his half-eaten slice of Dutch apple pie, letting out a small, tragic whine as he abandoned it to follow them out. Nearly every eye in the Great Hall stared at them in a heavy, suffocating silence as they exited double doors into the chilly Entrance Hall.
"What do you mean you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked the moment they reached the first-floor landing, his boots skidding slightly on the stone as he rounded on Hermione.
"Look... you don't understand what it was like for the rest of us after it happened, Harry," She said quietly, her bushy hair framing a face full of patient anxiety as she turned to look at him. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn... clutching Cedric's dead body. None of us saw what actually happened inside that maze. We only had Dumbledore's word for it that Voldemort had come back, killed Cedric, and 'fought' you."
"Which is the absolute truth!" Harry yelled at her, his voice echoing up the empty stairwell.
"I know it is the truth, Harry! So will you 'please' stop biting my head off?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking slightly with exasperation, her own temper flaring slightly before she forced herself to breathe.
Harry's defensive expression didn't change, but he looked away from her, his jaw tightly clenched as he stared at a stone brick on the wall.
"It's just that before the truth could properly sink into anyone's minds, everyone went straight home for the summer," Hermione continued, stepping closer to him. "Where they spent two solid months trapped in their houses, reading daily articles about how you're a delusional nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!"
"Harry, put yourself in their shoes for a fraction of a second," Lucifer said, leaning his shoulder against a grand arched window frame, cutting through the rising argument, "If your cousin Dudley came running into the kitchen and seriously told you that old 'Adolf Hitler' had resurrected from the dead and was actively bringing back the Third Reich, how exactly would you feel?"
The boy considered Lucifer's strange Muggle analogy seriously, his brow furrowing beneath his messy fringe. "Impossible. I'd think he'd completely lost his mind. He'd just be seeking attention because he's a spoiled git."
Hermione watched Harry's face carefully, nodding in agreement with Lucifer's logic. "Exactly, Harry. It sounds completely far-fetched to someone who hasn't seen it."
"Dibs on her," Lucifer said, continuing patiently. "Alright, now imagine if it wasn't Dudley. Imagine if it was Uncle Huck, say, the current Prime Minister of Britain, announcing it live on the BBC evening news to the entire world. Would you believe it then?"
This time, Harry hesitated, his green eyes darting over to Ron, who was listening with a thoroughly confused expression. "I... I still probably wouldn't," he admitted slowly. "It's too absurd. The man's been dead fifty years, and Muggles can't do magic. I'd think the Prime Minister had gone barmy."
"What if 'I' told you?" Lucifer pressed, his dark eyes locking onto the boy.
Now Harry genuinely began doubting his own logic, looking between him and Hermione. "Wait... has he actually come back?"
'Clap!'
Lucifer sharply smacked his hands together, the loud sound echoing like a pistol shot in the quiet corridor. Hermione jumped slightly at the noise, her hand flying to her chest as she watched her boyfriend weave his trap.
"See? That's exactly how ordinary wizards are reacting right now," he explained with a dry smirk. "Muggles can't resurrect people, but before seeing Voldemort return with your own eyes, did you even know such dark magic existed in our world?"
Harry shook his head hollowly. He had been completely stunned and terrified at the time in the graveyard.
"Uncle Huck represents Cornelius Fudge, and the BBC is the 'Daily Prophet," Lucifer said, laying out the chess pieces. "They are actively promoting conclusions that perfectly fit ordinary public understanding but are fundamentally wrong. So, most believe them without a second thought. Why? Because people instinctively trust institutional authorities, especially when the Ministry's credibility was previously decent without... any major, 'world-ending' scandals to taint it."
A sudden wave of understanding finally dawned on Harry, his shoulders dropping. "So compared to Fudge and the entire Ministry machine... Dumbledore and I just look like complete clowns."
"No, just you," Lucifer corrected mercilessly, deliberately stabbing Harry's weakest spot.
He watched the boy's face twist into an uncomfortable, painful grimace. "Hey, that's a bit harsh, mate," Ron interjected defensively, stepping forward with his hands in his pockets. "Harry's not a clown."
"He's being realistic, Ron," Hermione whispered sadly, her fingers tightening around her schoolbag strap as she looked at Harry's fallen expression.
"Think about it," Lucifer continued, completely ignoring Ron's protest, or the bushy-haired girl's interjection of support, "When Dumbledore says Voldemort's back, many powerful adults believe him without hesitation. They rally around him instantly to reform the secret 'Order of the Phoenix.' But you? Ron and Neville might believe you because they know you, but you can't even manage to convince Seamus, a boy you've shared a bedroom with for four years."
Harry gloomily lowered his head, staring fixedly at his worn leather shoes. He knew his friend was entirely right. "So what the hell am I supposed to do, Lucifer? It's the truth! I can't just pretend it didn't happen!"
"You don't need to trumpet it constantly like a street preacher," Lucifer said, waving a dismissive hand through the air. "You've got exactly two options moving forward."
"Which are?" Harry asked quickly. He actually fished a small, crumpled notebook and a stray quill out of his bag, paying closer attention to Lucifer than he had in any academic lesson that entire morning.
Lucifer raised a single, pale index finger. "First, you can beg people to believe you. Cry, scream, and maybe a few soft-hearted, pathetic souls will take pity on the poor, tragic 'Boy Who Lived."
Harry's face darkened instantly into a scowl. What kind of total rubbish suggestion was that? He reached into his pocket, pulled out two gold Galleons, and threw them at Lucifer's chest, who caught the coins out of the air with blinding speed, pocketing them without a single change in his expression, before extending a second finger, earning a scandulous eye from one Hermione Granger.
"Secondly... you become powerful enough that, naturally, the sheer weight of your existence forces people to value every single word that leaves your mouth."
Lowering his head in deep thought, the damp drafts of the corridor blowing past them. Hermione watched him quietly, her mind swirling with the weight of Lucifer's philosophy.
After a long, heavy pause, Harry raised to reboot the logic, "I don't think that's entirely right, Lucifer. Isn't Dumbledore incredibly powerful? He's brilliant. Then why don't many ordinary people believe him right now?"
"Because his magic doesn't actively fall upon those to remind of their place," Lucifer said with utter, bone-chilling indifference. "Everyone says Dumbledore is strong, Harry, but how many of these modern wizards have truly seen him act in combat? Precisely because in people's minds, he is far too rule-abiding, safe, and reassuring... That's exactly why everyone has completely lost their sense of primitive awe. What earthly use is a strong person who isn't actively feared?"
Harry's entire Gryffindor worldview was greatly shaken to its core. Following Lucifer's cynical line of thought, he began to rapidly re-evaluate his surroundings. Was Dumbledore strong? Undoubtedly. But were many people actually afraid of him? Not necessarily.
"Blimey," Ron whispered, his eyes wide as the realization hit him too. "He's right. Every single term, random parents send screaming Howlers and legal complaint letters reprimanding Dumbledore like he's a naughty schoolboy. And Umbridge... that pink cow actually dared to interrupt his opening speech last night in front of the whole school."
"Exactly," Hermione added, her voice carrying a brilliant, edge as she picked up on Lucifer's lesson, her arm wrapping around the boy's waist possessively as she spoke, checking out the Galleons this arsehole had taken, and return it back to their friend, "During Harry's trial back at the Ministry, if the eyewitness evidence Dumbledore brought forward hadn't been completely irrefutable, he wouldn't have emerged unscathed as he did.... Fudge completely disregarded 'Dumbledore's personal power because the Ministry knows the Headmaster operates strictly within the confines of the law. They know he will never use his magic against them."
Harry realized that Lucifer's perspective was incredibly adept at leveraging one's strength and reputation to achieve tangible goals, rather than solely relying on rules and fair play.
Wizards knew this inherently, which was exactly why they trembled whenever Lucifer walked down a corridor. Why did those arrogant Slytherin students fear him but were suddenly starting to whisper bad words over dinner tonight? Precisely because he hadn't acted violently today in 'Defense' class; he had simply walked out.
But they had feared him before because they vividly remembered how he would beat a pure-blood bully without a single shred of hesitation if provoked, literally fracturing Malcolm Graham's bones and hanging him on the corridor wall like a trophy. Why did the public dare to criticize Dumbledore 'freely?' Because everyone knew the old man wouldn't lose his temper over trivial insults.
"Let me think this over properly," Harry said quietly, rubbing his throbbing temples with his fingers. These dark concepts of power dynamics were somewhat beyond his standard heroic upbringing, it wasn't something his teenage brain could grasp immediately.
A heavy, torrential rain pounded violently against the high glass windowpanes as the four of them turned to stride along the empty, shadowed corridors back toward the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione kept close to Lucifer's side, her fingers resting lightly in his palm, mind quietly dissecting the 'Dark book' tucked safely into her bag.
As they turned into final hallway housing the portrait of the Fat Lady, Lucifer stopped briefly, his dark eyes glancing out of a rain-washed window at the pitch-black grounds below. He stared through the dark mist toward the edge of the 'Forbidden Forest.' There was still absolutely no light burning inside Hagrid's wooden cabin.
xxxxxxx
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